


Dead Battery

by TheMissluluB



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dreambubbles, F/M, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Mentioned Canonical Character Death, Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 11:21:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13680657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMissluluB/pseuds/TheMissluluB
Summary: Being a ship battery sucks, but the perks of being dead due to a burn-out are pretty fucking good.





	Dead Battery

**Author's Note:**

> My Valentines gift for [@PsychoPyro813](http://psychopyro813.tumblr.com/)! I enjoyed writing this a lot

Being a ship battery sucks.

Being turned into a ship battery against your will and forced to purge countless planets _and_ be flirted at by the worst possible person ever is even _worse_.

You always longed for the sweet release that your untimely yet inevitable death would bring, but as the sweeps passed into centuries, that feeling never came. _She_ made it so it never would. You hated that. She extended your lifespan further than any goldblood should live, and all you wanted to do was die. But you knew she would never allow that.

Then it happened. The Vast Glub. Finally. You lowkey hope that she died when you were forced to bring the ship back to Alternia to stop the glub from occuring. You’re pretty sure you died then.

Turns out, the psychic screaming of the horrorterrors _is_ worse than the voices of the imminently dead. Funny that. You owe Signless twenty Caegers.

If he wasn’t dead, that is.

… Wait, where the hell _are_ you? Because you are about ninety-nine percent sure you’re dead, too.

You sit up from your current position - which was lying on the floor staring at the ceiling - and try to figure out how to move your arm so that it can rub your head.

Your head _really hurts._

You hear something pop. Huh? You look over.

Huh.

Turns out that wherever you are can make head soothing pills out of thin air. You take some.

Is this the afterlife? If so, the afterlife looks far too similar to the hive you occupied as a wiggler, right down to the old wheeled plank you sucked at riding but still enjoyed using, and the old gamegrubs littered in the corner. Wow, they are _ancient_ compared to the ones you saw the recruits using on-

Let’s not think about that. Thinking about that leads to the headache coming back. Think happy thoughts.

…

If this _is_ the afterlife, then maybe the others are here.

Maybe _she’s_ here.

You hope she is. You haven’t seen her in so long, and you know she’s been through a lot. You want to wrap yourself around her and kiss her beautiful face, and maybe a little lower, littering sweet love bites all over her-

… Great now you’re horny over a _fantasy_. This might not even  _be_ the afterlife. Might be some kind of… Weird cross-road thing. The horrible hag might have trapped your soul here, never to escape or see your friends again. Some kind of “Final Punishment”, or something. You might not even be dead! You might just be in some kind of stasis, and you’re torturing yourself over thoughts you know will never happen.

But.

If you _are_ dead, and if the sea hag somehow survived… You’re currently as far away from her as possible, which you want more than _anything in the world right now._

You’re thinking about it again, great.

You really can’t win here.

You think about your love again as you try to figure out what this place is. No one will know what you do if no one’s here to watch. Might as well relieve _some_ stress.

* * *

That took longer than expected due to the fact that you are still figuring out how to move your joints. On the bright side you figured it out in the end! They feel stiff, but you’ll get used to it. You have psiioniics, they’re there for a reason. You will use them to the best of their abilities to move when you are quite frankly too lazy to. It’s fun, really.

Fun like the look on Signless’ face when you told him you fucked his Mum.

Fucking.

Hilarious.

Speaking of which, now you wonder if you can leave the confines of your old respiteblock. You stand up and float yourself out. Because honestly, floating is always better than walking. Always.

You open the door to find what you wouldn’t expect to find when you leave your hive. That is, hills of sand and grass. You lived in a crowded, lowblooded subgrub. Not the desert. You float across the plains. This is, by far, the weirdest thing to ever have happened to you. By _far_. This journey to a destination unknown felt like it had taken nights, maybe even sweeps.

Okay, not that long. A perigee at most.

What can you say? You have a flair for the dramatic. At least, you do right now.

Either way, you stop floating when you begin to recognise a place. This place feels more familiar. Back when you were travelling with the gang.

Hey, that’s where he used to stand to do his sermons. Both a meeting place for you all, and where he was changing the world, one troll at a time. A little further on is where you first kissed Rosa. When he was like, 11.

You look over and see yourself. Literally, a copy of yourself. A… Memory?

_“Gross, why do you have to do that in front of me? That’s my Mum!”_ The copy of 11 sweep old Signless said. You don’t think to go anywhere near the copies. Not after the first time you traversed through a similar experience in-

In _there_.

No. You know that once you go near them, once you _interact_ with them, they’ll disperse. They’ll evaporate.

They’ll cease to exist.

You float idly as you watch your carbon copy laugh your very distinctive laugh. _“You’re just upset that you’ll have to call me Dad,”_

_“For fucks sake-”_

_“Watch your language, young man,”_ You haven’t heard her voice in sweeps. So many sweeps. You know it’s a simulation, but she sounds happy. Stern, but playful.

You continue to watch the scene play out, watching it dissipate once it had finished. You love to torture yourself, apparently.

You were so wrapped up in your bubble of watching this happen that you didn’t even notice someone sneak up on you from behind. Not until they spoke, anyway.

“It is truly amazing what memories these bubbles concoct for us, don’t you think?”

So, safe to say you reacted less than amicably.

“WHAT THE FUCKING SHIT?!”

_Smooth._

You are so startled you fall on your ass because you dropped your psiioniics. You hear your assailant giggle. It sounds familiar, but you know it _can’t be_. You pout.

“Don’t fucking laugh at me, you-” You look up at them as you talk and- oh.

_Oh._

She crosses her arms, and raises a single eyebrow, _mocking_ you. Playfully mocking you, but mocking nonetheless. “Watch your language, mister.”

It really is her. You fail to hold in a gasp. You also fail to hold in the massive amount of tears spilling from your ganderbulb ducts. “There’s sand in my eyes. Both of them.” You say instead. Well. Say is a strong word. You stuttered and lisped while saying it, and didn’t even attempt to hold back the fact that you’re physically crying.

She looks older, tired. Her eyes, which were once filled with the most beautiful shade of green, are blank white. Dead. To be expected. You’re all Lowbloods. You were never meant to last long. Not like you were made to last.

She bends down to your level and wipes your eyes. She offers a tender smile, and you can’t help but cry some more.

“You are real, right? You’re not like- I.” You need the validation. you need to be told that, yes, she is real, and yes, you’ll never be apart again.

She nods. “I’m not a apparition of the bubbles, like the one you saw earlier. I am the real deal. A… what you call, ‘genuine article’,” She says with a chuckle.

You immediately hug her. You sob into her chest (Which is the best place, ever) about how much you’ve missed her. She tells you what you’ve missed, (Somehow there’s, like, another version of you from an alternate universe? You just _know_ he’d would gloat at that) and where you are. You ask if Signless gloated that he was right. She tells you that she had to _show_ him the people she had met because he had yet to meet them. That’s when he started to gloat. She informs you that they can’t find his Disciple. You reassure her, saying that honestly, she would find _them_. The band’s getting back together after all these years apart. It’s the best day ever.

She helps you up onto your feet, and offers a smile. You smile in return, and walk alongside her, your hand intertwined with hers. She’s going to show you around the ‘bubbles’, and you could not be happier.

It’s just, sometimes, when you’re so expectant that something will never happen, you begin to believe that it never will. But when it does? It’s the best feeling one could possibly have.

So to summarise, while being a ship battery sucks actual shameglobes, the perks of being dead due to burning out are quite immeasurable.

You are going to love every second that you are dead.

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZzlXSXGbpvY) while writing this fic, and i enjoyed every minute i wrote it. 
> 
> Honestly, I should write Psii more often. CTS doesn't count.


End file.
